Price, 25 Cents. 




publi5hi:d ey 

Tl-iJEL Dr.A.>LAT1C PuBL-ISniNG CoMPAKY 
CH^KLES H SER.GEL. . PRESIDENT 



Practical Instructions for 
Private Theatricals 

By W. D, EMERSON 
Author of "A Country Eomance, " "The Unknown Eival/* 
* ' Humble Pie, ' ' etc. 



Price, 25 cents 



Here is a practical hand-hook, describing in detail all the 
accessories, properties, scenes and apparatus necessary for an 
amateur production. In addition to the descriptions in v/ords, 
everything is clearly shown in the numerous pictures, more 
than one hundred being inserted in the book. No such useful 
book has ever been offered to the amateur players of any 
country. 

CONTENTS 

Chapter I. Introductory Eemarks. 

Chapter II. Stage, How to Make, etc. In drawing-rooms 
or parlors, with sliding or hinged doors. In a single large 
room. The Curtain; how to attach it, and raise it, etc. 

Chapter III. Arrangement of Scenery. How to hang it 
Drapery, tormentors, wings, borders, drops. 

Chapter IV. Box Scenes. Center door pieces, plain wings, 
door wings, return pieces, etc. 

Chapter V. How to Light the Stage. Oil, gas and electric 
light. Footlights, Sidelights, Eeflectors. How to darken the 
stage, etc. 

Chapter VI. Stage Effects. Wind, Eain, Thunder, Break- 
ing Glass, Falling Buildings, Snow, Water, Waves, Cascades, 
Passing Trains, Lightning, Chimes, Sound of Horses' Hoofs 
Shots. 

Chapter VII. Scene Painting. 

Chapter VIII. A Word to the Property Man. 

Chapter IX. To the Stage Manager. 

Chapter X. The Business Manager. ..^^"■, " • ' 

. . Address Orders to 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



THE KETTLE SINGS 

OR 

THE DOMESTIC CONSCIENCE 



COMEDY IN ONE ACT 
OF TWO SCENES 



BY 

CAROLINE S. P. WILD 



CHICAGO 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 



/^^v^ 






The Kettle Sings, or The Domestic Conscience, was first 
played on the eighteenth of April, 1917, at the Playhouse, Fine 
Arts Building, Chicago, before the Chicago Woman's Club, 
with the following 

CAST 
The Kettle 

The Motor Maid Ernestine Pearce 

Lucy Potts Agnes Betts 

John Potts William Z. Nourse 

Mrs. Smythkin Helen Nourse 

Mrs. Bysom Martha K. Wood 

Miss Felicia Schoolcraft Cordelia D. Goodhue 

Mrs. Martha Meanwell Ethel R. McDowell 

AIrs. Foster Ade Elizabeth C. Young 

Mrs. Rafael Keats Ella J. Abeel 

Mrs. Plato Darwin Mabel C. Thompson 

Mrs. Mary Black Helen W. Cooley 

Two Delivery Boys Rosa G. Landauer 



TIME: Forward of the Present. 

PLACE: A Modern Large City. 

SCENE: The interior of the Potts' Apartment: — a living 
room furnished both as library and dining room. There is a 
fireplace, middle rear, where hangs conspicuous a large Brass 
Kettle. Either side of fireplace are low book shelves. 

A door, left side rear, to street entrance. 

A door, right side front, to a bedroom. 

A door, right side rear, to kitchen. 

On right wall in plain sight is a set of buttons which govern the 
motor maid. Dining and easy chairs, books and flowers, a picture 
or two, furnish comforts. The dining table is to the right of 
middle, rear. A hat rack is near the entrance door. 

A writing desk, well furnished, at left, front. A telephone 
mouthpiece is seen above the book case at left, rear; this is gov- 
erned by a controlophone set on Lucy's desk. 

The "hooting" of the Kettle can be done satisfactorily with a 
large, double-reed bicycle horn worked by squeezing a rubber bulb. 

Th^ "singing" can be done with a small tin fife blown gently 
with a few varying notes, more or less in imitation of a singing 
teakettle. 



Copyright, 191 7, by The Dramatic Publishing Company. 

The royalty fee for this play is five dollars for each perform- 
ance, payable in advance. All persons are warned not to give any 
performances without written permission by the publishers, The 
Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago, 

^CI.D 48118 



OCT 22 1317 



TMP92-0 07489 



THE KETTLE SINGS 



ACT I, SCENE I. 

Scene. John Potts^ a young man, is reading the morn- 
ing paper. The motor maid is setting the table for break- 
fast. The maid has a trim angular figure, is neatly 
gozvned in dark blue with buttons dozvn the iack of her 
dress. She wears a serving apron and a square, white 
cap. All her motions are precise, mechanical; her fea- 
tures are expressionless. A metal receptacle, set on the 
breast of the maid's gozvn, is intended for callers* cards. 
When not in action the maid stands in stiff position 
against the wall near the kitchen door. 

John. [Observing that the maid has come to a sud- 
den stop and that she stands stiffly holding out a plate of 
muffins. '\ Lucy ! 

Lucy. [Speaking from the bedroom."] Yes, John? 

John. My dear, did you forget to charge our maid 
last evening? She is anemic, lacks vitality. She is quite 
run down in fact! 

Lucy. [From bedroom.] Isn't breakfast served? 
Has she really stopped? 

John. To the best of my masculine observation she 
has stopped. [John peers beyond the maid at the table.] 
And breakfast is not yet served. 

Lucy. [From bedroom.] Well! Just a minute! 
Perhaps I did forget ! [Sounds of hurried movement in 
the bedroom.] You remember the package came from 
mother last evening just as we were turning out the 
lights [Sound of banging a bureau drawer] and, being 
excited when we found the package was a kettle [More 
sound of quick moving in bedroom.] I probably — forgot 
— the maid. 

John. [Turning again to his paper.] Very likely. 

3 



4 THE KETTLE SINGS 

Lucy. [From bedroom.'] John, dear. 

John. Yes? 

Lucy. [From bedroom.] John, I don't like to bother 
you, but here I am just braiding up my hair; would you 
mind sparking her yourself? 

John. Sparking her ! 

Lucy. [From bedroom.] Yes, you know, charge her 
first, then touch the first button on the governing board 
to start her. [Pause.] Thank you if you will, dear. 
The first button, remember. 

John. [Rising but dubious.] To manage a woman- 
looking thing by pressing a button ! [He goes to the maid 
and absent-mindedly begins to fumble with the dress 
buttons as if fastening a gozvn; he sees his mistake and 
pushes the maid tozvards the governing board.] It is not 
enough, I see, to assist the lady, I must do it in the right 
way. [John connects and disconnects the wire and 
presses a button, right. The maid starts swiftly into 
action and begins removing the breakfast service, John 
zvatching in consternation.] Stop ! Hold there ! [He 
tries to stop the maid by blocking her way but she, with 
an abrupt turn, outflanks him.] 

John. [Holding the maid by main strength.] For 
heaven's sake come and stop the creature, Lucy ; your 
female Frankenstein is in reverse, she is clearing off the 
table ! [He groans and struggles to hold the maid.] 
Lucy, come ! [Enter Lucy, dressed in a dainty silk morn- 
ing frock which she is buttoning as she comes in, the end 
of her hair braid sticking up; Lucy is in haste, but calm. 
She consults the governing board, then looks at John and 
at the maid, amused.] 

Lucy. John, dear, I told you the first button, and the 
first button for good Americans is at the left. Are you 
a Chinaman? [Lucy presses the left button.] You must 
have pushed the right button — that one sets her in reverse 
action. See what happens now. [The maid starts as 
John lets go of her and begins again the ordered serving 
of breakfast.} 



THE KETTLE SINGS 5 

Lucy. [Watching the maid and patting her own hair 
into place.] What wonderful mechanism! She is the 
latest and best of household blessings. 

John. [Watching the maid and moving his fingers 
as if pressing buttons, absent mindedly.~\ Yes, yes. 

[The maid touches a bell announcing breakfast; John 
seats Lucy.] 

Lucy. Motor servants are the housewives' relief ! 
Domestic service used to be a constant irritant — like a 
cinder in your eye, a cause for tears. I am thankful you 
and I have no foreign temperaments to deal with. 

John. No, no temperaments, but we have — Buttons! 
[John laughs at Lucy.] As I see it, domestic ease is now 
a matter of knowing one's buttons forwards and back- 
wards, and that man who has learned his buttons early — 
[Triumphant gesture.] 

Lucy. John, breakfast is served. 

John. [Going to and standing by his own chair, ges- 
ticulating.] I say, Lucy, that man who, by the Montes- 
sori method, has learned his buttons early will become, 
is bound to become, the model husband of his day! 
[John seats himself.] 

Lucy. Calm yourself, dear. Have a muffin? 

John. [Waving the muffins azvay.] My mood is not 
for muffins ! These — these encounters with dumb waiters 
raise one above the muffin plane ! My courage mounts 
with occasion — that's quoted : — I could talk familiarly of 
roaring lions — quoted too, but I feel it ! I could press ten 
buttons for you Lucy, and take the consequences ! [John 
rises, as if suiting action to words, but Lucy waves him 
dozvn.] 

Lucy. [Pouring coffee, which the maid serves to 
John.] You know cooking can never be done by the 
button method — it takes live brains for that. But isn't 
this community cooking delicious? Everything comes in 
fresh that should be fresh and hot that should be hot. 
Have you enough butter? 



6 THE KETTLE SINGS 

John. Plenty, thank you. [The maid, in serving, 
Jiere drops a spoon on the floor.] 

Lucy. Quick, John ! Press the reverse button ! The 
maid has dropped a spoon. [John presses the button, 
right. The maid stops, bends stiffly, and picks up spoon. 
John presses the left button. The maid again serves as 
before. During this episode Lucy and John are absorbed 
in watching the maid.] 

John. [Seating himself again at table, helps himself 
to a muffin.'] There is something very appeaHng about 
a muffin. 

Lucy. [Mischievously.] Back again on the muffin 
plane ? 

John. I have volplaned to earth. [Eats his muffin.] 
And my inner man yearns for sustenance. [Reaches for 
a second muffin.] My darling! 

Lucy. Well? 

John. Can this be permanent? [Sweeps his hand 
with an inclusive gesture.] This domestic serenity, this 
surcease from carking care, this buttered-muffin exist- 
ence ? 

Lucy. You mean this release from the shadow of the 
Intelligence Office? Now that housemaids are furnished 
as fixtures with most apartments, we have no fear 

John. [Interrupting.] Fear that reigned with the 
tyrant has left by the kitchen door! 

Lucy. I meant to say that we have no fear of the 
new maids' giving notice ; they are attached to us, really. 

John. Ours is attached — I attached her! Lucy, you 
do not forget that ? 

Lucy. [Laughing merrily.] Such nonsense ! We can 
never again be serious I do believe. But John ! 

John. Yes? 

Lucy. What do you think my mother meant by send- 
ing us that kettle? Let's examine it. 

John. Sure enough, the kettle! [Both John and 
Lucy rise.] 



• THE KETTLE SINGS 7 

Lucy. Finish your breakfast, dear. I have finished. I 
will bring the kettle. 

John. Oh, very v^ell. [Resumes eating.] [Lucy 
takes the kettle from the fireplace and carries it forward, 
examining it and pulling forth a roll of paper from the 
nozzle. Lucy holds this paper out to John ; he rises and 
takes both it and the kettle from her.] 

Lucy. Have you finished breakfast, John? 

John. Yes, quite. [John is examining the paper 
roll. Lucy presses the reverse button on the .gvnerning 
board; the maid removes breakfast.] 

John. [As Lucy joins him.] This is a strange bit 
of doggerel ; let me read it to you ; it is in your mother's 
hand. [John reads.] 

"This gift, my children, is a worthy dower, 
An humble, but a very canny kettle ; 
Kept ever bright and steaming it will settle 
Most problems that beset you, hour by hour." 

Lucy. [With a gesture of dismay.] "Kept ever 
bright and steaming!" 

John. "Settle your problems hour by hour." [John 
strikes an attitude, holding the kettle at arm's length.] 
Farewell, a long farewell to all my problems ! Not even 
a collar button bothers a man nowadays — collar buttons 
are all patented, all warranted not to furnish swearing 
excuses. Lucy! [John appeals to her.] You will be 
my problem now and then, will you not? Life were a 
tedious tale without one problem ! Have a fault or two 
for my sake, Lucy ! 

Lucy. {With a mock curtsy.] I shall be studious 
to oblige you — ^being a woman. But I must find out what 
the kettle is going to do ! [Lucy takes the kettle, pours 
into it zvater from a pitcher left on the table, and places 
the kettle on the crane, starting the fire beneath.] 

Lucy. "Keeping the kettle bright and steaming," is 
going to cost a little for upkeep ; where shall we charge 
that in our budget? [John has taken the newspaper 
again; he now puts it down and looks on with interest 



8 THE KETTLE SINGS ■ 

while Lucy, mith an account book which she has taken 
from the desk drazver, opens it and slowly reads the 
items.] Rent — food — ice — gas — none of those. 

John. Hardly. 

Lucy. Clothing, amusements — it isn't going to be an 
amusement, is it? 

John. I really can't predict, with safety. 

Lucy. [Still reading.^ Entertaining — no, I am cer- 
tain it means more than that. Telephone — church — 
charity — it really does not fit in anywhere, does it? 

John. How about Home Missions? 

Lucy. Dear ! Your brilliance illuminates. 

John. I should think the kettle might qualify — as a 
Home Missionary. 

Lucy. The very thing; that matter is settled; the 
Home Missionary on the Hearth! [Lucy, rising, puts 
the account book away, then turns to John.] John, I 
think we must be the happiest and most congenial mar- 
ried people in the world; no shade could ever come 
between us! [Tableau.] 

John. It would be a bold shade, my darling, that 
would venture! 

[The kettle sings softly. Door bell. Maid attends.'] 

John. [Looking at his watch.'] It is late; I must 
be off. 

Lucy. Wait one moment; the mail has come. [The 
maid brings to Lucy a large bundle of mail. There are 
innumerable postals and one or tzvo letters.'] 

Lucy. [Taking the mail — turns to John.] Can you 
wait while I sort the mail ? Then I could walk with you 
as far as the Park — or are you in too much of a hurry ? 

John. In haste, dear, but no hurry! 

Lucy. Which means — ^you will wait? What a dear 
you are. [John, settling himself near Lucy, lights a 
cigar.] 

Lucy. [At her desk, sorting the mail.] Look at 
these postals ! Most of them are announcements of meet- 
ings, and I couldn't possibly attend half of them! 



THE KETTLE SINGS 9 

[Reserving some, Lucy tears others in two and drops 
them in the waste basket.] I mean to keep to a sweet 
reasonableness about — [More postals in the basket.] 
about my day's appointments. Most women's days, if 
spread out for inspection, would look like the patchwork 
quilts their grandmothers made — scraps of this and that 
pieced together in a sort of wild goose chase pattern. 

John. [Meditatively.] I guess that is about so. 

Lucy. What one woman can do to keep some free 
time to herself every day I mean to try for. [Holds up 
three postals.] Here are three cards to the same meet- 
ing; that's a great waste of postage. [Lucy places the 
package of mail on her desk and rises.] And now I will 
dress and be with you in a few seconds ; will you time 
me? [Telephone rings.] 

John. I will answer. [Lucy goes to the bedroom. 
John answers through the controlo phone.] This is 
Home 123. 

Telephone Voice. Is Mrs. Potts at home? 

John. She is. 

Telephone Voice. This is the Dunetrotters' office. 
May we speak to Mrs. Potts? [Lucy comes to John's 
side, taking the controlophonc.] 

Lucy. This is Mrs. Potts. 

Telephone Voice. The Dunetrotters' office, Mrs. 
Potts. There are hurry notices to be sent out for a 
meeting next Thursday ; the notices are printed but not 
addressed; they should be mailed this evening; our ad- 
dressograph is out of order ; every one here is up to her 
eyes in work. Could you, our secretary, do this address- 
ing today? 

John. [To Lucy.] Not by hand! 

Lucy. [Telephoning.] You say the addressograph 
is out of order. Have you address slips to paste on ? 

Telephone Voice. Yes, we have those. 

Lucy. How many notices are to be sent out? 

Telephone Voice. About seven hundred. 



10 THE KETTLE SINGS 

John. [To Lucy.] Lucy, I protest! [Lucy waves 
him back.] 

Lucy. [Very firmly, telephoning.'] If you will send 
the cards and address slips at once, I'll do the best I 
can with them. 

Telephone Voice. [Relieved, joyous.] Thank you 
so much! So sorry to trouble you with them, but so 
important, you know! We will send the cards right 
away. Goodbye. 

[Lucy puts down the contr otophone. John comes 
and stands facing her, his hands in his pockets; he is 
indignant.] 

John. You women never know how to say "NO." 
Why don't they fix their addressograph ? Why should 
you be asked to shoulder the entire job? That is a 
clerk's business, not a secretary's! 

Lucy. But, John, the clerk is overworked already, 
and you see it is my duty to do this. I have accepted the 
position of secretary, and I must make good in it. 

Kettle. Hoot! [Both John and Lucy start vio- 
lently at the unaccustomed sound, but continue absorbed 
in their discussion.] 

John. [Shrugs his shoulders.] Is this path of duty 
the way to glory, then? 

Lucy. John, how provoking you are ! You must see 
that I can't well shift this responsibility. 

John. I confess it seems a very foolish undertaking, 
to me. [More gently.] But we can talk it over as we 
walk along. Will you soon be ready? 

Lucy. Dear, I can't go with you this morning, after 
all. Isn't it too bad? For, if those postals come — 

Kettle. Hoot! [John and 'Lucy jump.] 

Lucy. I must go right at them. 

Kettle. H-o-o-o-t ! [Both John and Lucy, startled, 
are moving tozvards kettle.] 

Lucy. [Persisting, louder.] The committee will have 
all its final arrangements to make, and I ought to spend 
every moment — 



THE KETTLE SINGS 11 

Kettle. H-o-o-o-t! 

Lucy. Every moment of this day getting those an- 
nouncements out! 

Kettle. [Very loud and long.'] Ho-o-o-ot! [^3; 
this time John and Lucy are nervously examining the 
kettle.] 

John. The Home Missionary evidently disapproves ; 
unless r mistake it, that is a voice of protest against 
your plan. 

Kettle. H-o-o-o-t ! 

Lucy. I could never address a card with this going on ! 

[John, still eyeing the kettle, has taken a zvoolen scarf 
from a chair back. He nozv advances stealthily towards 
the fireplace, Lucy falling in behind him. John wraps 
the scarf around the kettle, covering the spout.] 

Kettle. [Muffled.] Hoot! 

Lucy. I think, I think it is a mad kettle, but so long 
as the postals haven't yet come from the office, [Bright- 
ening.] will you wait? I will go with you after all. Time 
me, please. [Lucy goes into bedroom; John sits, watch 
in hand; the kettle begins to sing softly; John quietly 
goes to fireplace and removes the muffler; as he turns 
around, watch and scarf in hand, Lucy appears, gowned 
for the street, hatted, and with gloves and parasol. 
Kettle sings steadily.] 

John. [Putting away his watch and holding up a 
warning finger.] Ssh ! You were just three minutes. 

Lucy. [Softly.] And the kettle is singing! 

John. Come along, dear, while it is peaceful; you 
can't always tell when an active home missionary will 
again erupt. [Lucy takes scarf from John, puts it in 
place, presses a button in the governing board, straightens 
a chair and rug, and joins John, zvho has taken his hat 
and gloves from the rack and is holding the door open.] 
There may be wisdom in the vaporings of our kettle ! 

[Exeunt John and Lucy; brief moment of quiet. 
Doorbell. Maid attends. Enter First Delivery Boy 
bringing a large package.] 



12 THE KETTLE SINGS 

First Delivery Boy. Package from Dunetrotters*. 
[Without looking up, he opens his book, holding it out 
for signature.] Sign here, please. [Pause, in which 
nothing happens. The boy looks up, inspects the maid, 
grins knowingly, closes the book, and departs whistling 
''The Girl I Left Behind Me." The maid puts the pack- 
age on the writing desk and returns to position. Tele- 
phone rings. Maid pays no attention. Telephone rings 
again, violently, and then stops ringing. Doorbell. Maid 
attends. Second Delivery Boy enters, bringing a moun- 
tain of store boxes.] 

Second Delivery Boy. Packages from Acres! [He 
puts the boxes down on a chair near the desk, stage front 
right, and then looks curiously at the maid.] Chee ! An- 
other o' them new Buzzer-girls ! The cops is kickin' on 
them. [Sighs, as if tired.] I'm kickin' on carryin' tons 
o' boxes back an' forth. [Chucks the maid under the 
chin and goes out. Doorbell. Maid attends. Re-enter 
Lucy. She is bright, as from good exercise. Going 
to the fireplace, she nods to the kettle.] 

Lucy. [To the kettle.] Thanks to you, I have had 
my good walk. 

[Kettle sings. Lucy takes off her -hat, etc., and as the 
kettle sings softly, Lucy hums with it. She discovers 
on the desk the Dunetrotters' package.] 

Lucy. Oh, here are the postals ; I must get right at 
them. [Lucy gives her hat, gloves, etc., to the maid, 
pressing a service button; the maid carries them to the 
bedroom, leaves them there and returns to position. 
Lucy goes to her desk and opens the Dunetrotter 
package.] 

Lucy. [Sighing.] What a pile of work ! [As Lucy 
is folding the paper and string and arranging her desk 
zuork, she turns and discovers the great pile of depart- 
ment store boxes.] Why ! What on earth can these be ? 
I have not ordered goods sent home. [Lucy is about to 
investigate the boxes when the telephone rings. Lucy 
answers through contr otophone.] Home 123. 



THE KETTLE SINGS 13 

Telephone Voice. Mrs. Potts? 

Lucy. Yes. 

Telephone Voice. This is the Dunetrotters* office. 
Our messenger came back saying you had one of the 
new mechanical maids in your apartment who couldn't 
sign the book. Have you the postals there all right ? 

Lucy. Yes, they are here; I am just getting at them. 

Telephone Voice. Very well, then. Thank you. 
Good-bye. 

Lucy. But where can these boxes have come from? 
[She starts to investigate. Door bell rings. Maid admits 
Mrs. Smythkin, who puts her card in the maid's gown 
and advances to Lucy.] 

Mrs. Smythkin. [A fashionable person, who 
gushes.'] Dear Mrs. Potts, I hope you will excuse the 
informality of my call — without a hat, you see. I am 
your neighbor in the building, Mrs. George Smythkin. 
It's very distracting, isn't it? — being a bride, I mean. 
You have so many strangers come to call. I mean to 
call formally later on; you must really let me be your 
friend, calling upon me for anything you want, you 
know. I am the second apartment above ; you really 
must treat me like a sister ! I once met your dear mother ; 
wonderful, delightful woman, Mrs. Black ; so active, you 
know ; I love to hear her speak ! I heard her once on — 
on — it. was about — but I mustn't run on in this way, for 
I've only come in to get the boxes. [Mrs. Smythkin 
is looking at the Acres packages.'] 

Lucy. Boxes ! Oh, are they your packages, then ? 

Mrs. Smythkin. Yes, yes, they are. You see, I took 
the liberty of having them sent to your apartment — 
bride's apartment, you know — so natural that boxes 
should be coming in. And then [Mrs. Smythkin sighs.] 
probably your husband has not yet begun to scold about 
little things ! [Lucy waits patiently while Mrs. Smyth- 
kin drazvs a long breath.] It is trifling, isn't it, to worry 
over bundles? George always says when he sees a few 
packages coming from Acres or some other store: [Here 



14 THE KETTLE SINGS 

Mrs. Smyth kin imitates ''George/'] "What in thunder 
do women have half the store sent home for? Why 
don't they know what they want and go and get it?" 
[Mrs. Smythkin resumes her natural tone of voice.] 
And it's no use ; I tell him over and over that the stores 
expect to send things out, they like to do it; that they 
have to keep the delivery boys busy. He won't believe 
me, and I knew you wouldn't mind my saving him one 
of these unreasonable spells by having the packages come 
to you. George is gone now, and I will have the elevator 
boy carry the boxes up for me. [Mrs. Smythkin starts 
to go, but, as if suddenly inspired, turns to Lucy, who 
has stood quite patiently listening.] If you aren't very 
busy — and you can't have much to do, being a bride — 

Kettle. Hoot! [Mrs. Smythkin starts at the 
sound and drops the boxes, but proceeds.] 

Mrs. Smythkin. I would love to show you some of 
these little things I picked up yesterday. 

Lucy. I have some work I really must do. 

Mrs. Smythkin. [On her way to the boxes, picking 
up Lucy's desk scissors as she goes.] Well, it won't take 
more than a minute to see these lovely things — I just 
happened on them — I'd like to show them to you. Now 
this, [Taking out of a box an elaborate evening gown 
of the extremest low cut fashion — a short underskirt 
with long over points hanging to the floor. ^ Now this, 
[Holding the gown up to show it off, front and back.] 
is a beauty. Isn't it a beauty? 

Kettle. Hoot! [Mrs. Smythkin and Lucy both 
start nervously.] 

Mrs. Smythkin. I'm only afraid it's a trifle high at 
the back of the waist. [She holds the gown up judi- 
cially.] They don't wear backs any more, you know — 
just a strap. What do you think? 

Lucy. I ? I really think it is much too low. 

Mrs. Smythkin. Oh, no, not for present fashion! 
Don't be a prude at your age! Now, in one of these 
boxes — [She stuffs the first gown back in its box, lifts 



THE KETTLE SINGS " 15 

the box off, opens another box.] Oh, yes, here it is — 
a fancy ball costume, Persian, you know. I thought I'd 
enjoy a Persian costume, such wonderful colors ! [She 
is exhibiting a hybrid costume with bloomers and sash 
of exquisite color and texture and spangled bodice of 
conventional European cut.l Dear me ! I hope I can 
get George to go sometime in a Bakst costume, and I'll 
wear this. You know, I always thought Bach was only 
a musician, kind of trilly, until I saw the ballet, with all 
his costumes in it. You see this [Indicating the hybrid 
gozvn.] is only Persian below ; I had this bodice put on 
because I once read somewhere that Persian court ladies 
wear bloomers with Parisian bodices, like this, so, when 
they sit at dinner, they are Persian below the table and 
European above it. It took my fancy ! Isn't this beauti- 
ful? Don't you like it? 
Kettle. Hoot ! [Both women are startled."] 
Lucy. I don't believe I do, very well. [Noting Mrs. 
Smyth kin's disappointment.'] But then, you see, I was 
brought up on dress reform ideas — everything must be 
useful and comfortable as well as beautiful. I don't 
think I could be comfortable — Persian below and Pari- 
sian above. 

Mrs. Smythkin. Oh, of course! Your mother, Mrs. 
Black, was one of the Dress Reform Leaders ! And so 
you were brought up on those notions — long, flowing 
lines, outward curves, flat shoes — oh, dear, oh, dear, I 
never coidd live up to that. [She puts the boxes together 
and ties them up.] If the time ever comes when all the 
women leave off corsets, and wear things hanging from 
their shoulders, and go without heels, and never powder 
their noses, I — well, I simply won't be here then 1 Now 
the boy's outside and I'll give him these, and I'm ever so 
glad to have met you; you're just beautiful, you know, 
only I wouldn't go in for too much common sense if I 
were you. Good-bye. 

[Exit Mr. Smythkin, zvho staggers out zvith the 
boxes.] 



16 ' THE KETTLE SINGS 

Lucy. [Sits at her desk and begins to paste addresses.'] 
Now I must not haVe any more interruptions. [Tele- 
phone rings.] 

Lucy. [Through contr otophone.] Home 123. 

Telephone Voice. Mrs. John Henry Potts? 

Lucy. Yes, this is Mrs. Potts. 

Telephone Voice. Mrs. Potts, this is Bluffum's 
Studio. We are making a speciahy of portrait work 
for this season's brides, and Mr. Bluffum wants partic- 
ularly to have the pleasure of making a study of you. 
No charge at all, unless you are pleased. We are going 
to present this year's portraits in an album to the Poly- 
technic, and it will hardly be complete unless you — 

Lucy. [Interrupts.] I really haven't time — . 

Telephone Voice. Not today? But, may we call 
again tomorrow. This is a most unusual opportunity! 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Lucy. No, do not call me. If I consider the matter 
favorably, I will call you. 

Telephone Voice. [Abruptly.] Oh, very well, 
good day. 

[Lucy resumes addressing, and then, as if recollecting 
something forgotten, picks up the contr otophone.] 

Lucy. While I am about it, I may as well finish 
telephoning. [Through the contr otophone.] Main 645. 

Telephone Voice. 6 — 4 — 5 Main. 

[Pause; after delay, central calls.] 

Telephone Voice. Number, please? 

Lucy. I gave you the number. 

Telephone Voice. Number, please? 

Lucy. [Not patiently.] Main 645. 

Telephone Voice. 6 — 4 — 5 Main. [Pause, delay.] 

Lucy. [Waiting, taps the desk with her pencil, then 
calls again, impatiently.] Witt — you — please — give — me 
— Main 645? 

Telephone. Bzzzz ! [Busy signal.] 



THE KETTLE SINGS 17 

[Lucy, disgusted, puts down the controlo phone and 
goes on zvith the addressing. Door bell. Maid admits 
Mrs. Bysom. Lucy is absorbingly at work, and does not 
notice Mrs. Bysom's entrance. Mrs. Bysom is showily 
gowned, and wears a jaunty air. She has a large, black 
silk scarf on her left arm. Glancing keenly about, she 
takes a calling card impressively from her purse and slips 
it into the maid's gozvn front. Maid returns to wall 
position. Mrs. Bysom approaches Lucy.] 

Mrs. Bysom. Ahem! Mrs. Potts? I hope I don't 
intrude? [Lucy rises and looks expectantly at Mrs. 
Bysom, who continues.] I see you don't recall me — 
Mrs. Bysom, Mrs. Genevieve Bysom. I placed my 
calling card in your maid's keeping. I know your dear 
mother well; who doesn't know Mrs. Black? Such a 
grand woman — such a noble woman 1 Absolutely a grand 
woman if ever there was one! 

Lucy. You're very kind. [Lucy offers a chair.] 

Mrs. Bysom. Oh, not at all ! I have come to ask a 
favor of you, Mrs. Potts. 

Lucy. What is it? 

Mrs. Bysom. Have you, by any chance, on your book- 
shelves — I see you have many books — have you a copy 
of Butler's Precious Pearls of Wisdom? It is a publi- 
cation for children. 

Lucy. I have no children and no children's books. 
I am sorry. 

Mrs. Bysom. [Hastily interrupts, drawing forth an 
agent's sample folder from a bag hid beneath her silk 
scarf.] Of course, you are sorry ; every one is sorry 
if this wonderful chance has passed her by ! Every truly 
cultured woman I have ever approached with the offer 
I am about to make to you tells me she wouldn't think of 
missing the opportunity to have this marvelous compila- 
tion, absolutely marvelous, in her library ! [Lucy starts 
to interrupt, but Mrs. Bysom talks more rapidly.] Our 
most noted educators, fourteen of our absolutely most 
noted educators, have given years of their time to col- 



18 THE KETTLE SINGS 

lecting data for this work. Let me read you a few of 
their names. 

Lucy. But, my dear Madam — I — 

Mrs. Bysom. Oh, pray don't mind taking my time. 
I am only too glad to present this unparalleled, absolutely 
unparalleled, chance to refined people. They alone are 
the ones who appreciate it; it is only to them I turn! 
But may I read to you the names of the distinguished 
editors? [Reads.] "Dr. M. Burry Cutler, Ph.D., LL.D." 
You know him, of course ! "Dr. James Gordan Starr, 
D.D., LL.D., Ph.D."— wonderful man! "Dr. Andrew 
Pax," president of — but you know all about him; his 
name alone would sell the book, absolutely sell the book, 
at double the price. Just examine the quality. [She 
hands the sample book to Lucy.] 

Lucy. But, my dear woman, I have no use for these 
volumes; my husband and I are specializing in books 
and we — 

Mrs. Bysom. [Interrupting.'] The very reason, abso- 
lutely the very reason, why you should have this book 
of general information on your specialized book shelves. 
Your children will rise up and call you to account if 
you don't have it. 

Lucy. But I do not wish the book. You are wasting 
your time and mine. My means do not allow me to 
invest in expensive books unless I am certain of using 
them. [Kettle sings softly.] 

Mrs. Bysom. [Taking hack the unopened sample 
hook.] And you are right, quite right, dear Mrs. Potts. 
I am accustomed to these economies in young house- 
keepers. We must encourage them in thrift — we must 
encourage them. [While talking, Mrs. Bysom pulls 
from her hag a small hottle zvith a large curl of hair 
attached to the cork.] That is why I carry around with 
me this delightful little Curl Quick — it is a time-saver. 
And time is money, isn't it, Mrs. Potts? And so, in 
saving time wasted by women who curl their hair in the 
old-fashioned way, I am saving their money, am I not? 



THE KETTLE SINGS 19 

Now this little Curl Quick — that is the name, you see 
[She offers the bottle to Lucy.] — is recommended by the 
famous hair specialist, absolutely the most famous — 

Lucy. [Quite furious, interrupts.] Mrs. Bysom, this 
passes all ! 

Mrs. Bysom. [Sighing as she drops the bottle into 
her lap and drazvs from her sleeve a long purple ribbon 
with a small silver clasp at the end.] I see you are not 
in need of the Curl Quick, really not in need of it, but 
here is a sweet device [She holds up the ribbon.} that is 
simplicity itself and all the rage, absolutely all the rage, 
in the Smart Set. On the Driveway no woman thinks 
of appearing without her lapdog on one of these leashes — 
absolutely not ! 

Lucy. [Out of patience, rises.] Mrs. Bysom, I must 
request you to leave me ! I have on hand matters more 
important than haircurlers and lapdog leashes! It is 
unthinkable that such intrusion as this should be pos- 
sible ! I really think peddlers should be prohibited ! 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Lucy. [Calms herself, as though warned by the kettle, 
and looks at Mrs. Bysom, who, with a dejected air, is 
putting her articles into the bag and preparing to leave.] 
Mrs. Bysom, [Mrs. Bysom forlornly turns to Lucy.] 
I beg your pardon; perhaps / am intrusive now, but I 
want to ask you, is — is not your business a very trying 
one — going to the homes of all sorts of people and per- 
suading them — [Lucy speaks most kindly as she perceives 
Mrs. Bysom to be agitated.] persuading them to buy 
what they really do not want? 

Mrs. Bysom. [Painfully tries to control her feelings.] 
It's a dog's life, I don't mind telling you, absolutely a 
dog's life, just a shade better than being on the street! 
You get yourself up regardless [She indicates her fine 
clothes.] in things you can't afford, because you have to 
make a good impression ; you offer the glad hand to 
people when you know they will soon want to kill you, 
absolutely kill you, for taking up their time, offering 



20 THE KETTLE SINGS 

them stuff you have learned to reel off a spiel about! 
[Mrs. Bysom grows hysterical.'] Ha! Ha! it's a great 
life, the peddler's, but as peddling's the only thing I 
can do well, absolutely the only thing, I'd better — [She 
falls, fainting, to the floor. Lucy, startled hut cool- 
headed, straightens Mrs. Bysom's limbs, presses a gov- 
erning hoard hntton, zvhereupon the maid brings water, 
a towel, restoratives; Lucy chafes Mrs. Bysom's hands 
until the maid returns, when she bathes Mrs. Bysom's 
forehead, applies smelling salts, etc.] 

Lucy. I am thankful now for my First Aid training. 

Mrs. Bysom. [Reviving.] Oh, again ! Oh, I wish I 
were dead ! I wish I were absolutely dead ! 

Lucy. [Helping Mrs. Bysom to stand.] You must 
stay here quietly with me until you feel better. 

Mrs. Bysom. No. You're very kind, but I must be 
going along. [She shozvs signs of returning faintness, 
and sinks into a chair. The kettle sings.] 

Lucy. Do sit still. You shall have a cup of tea. 
[Presses hntton; the maid responds as desired; Mrs. 
Bysom sits with closed eyes. Telephone rings.] 

Lucy. [Through controlo phone.] Home 123. 

John's Voice. Hello, is that you, Lucy? 

Lucy. Oh, John, I tried to get you some time ago, 
but could not rfiake connection. 

John's Voice. Is everything right with you? 

Lucy. Fairly so. 

John's Voice. How is the Home Missionary? 

Lucy. Active. 

John's Voice. And your postals? Are they finished? 

[Here the maid hrings the tea tray to Lucy.] 

Lucy. [Telephoning.] Excuse me a moment, John, 
an interruption. Hold the wire, please. [Lucy sets the 
tea tray on a small table near Mrs. Bysom, who until now 
has sat quite listless.] 

Lucy. Please drink this tea, Mrs. Bysom; I am sure 
it will revive you. [Mrs. Bysom murmurs thanks and 
Lucy returns to the telephone,] Hello, John. Waiting? 



THE KETTLE SINGS 21 

John's Voice. Yes — how about your postals? 

Lucy. I have hardly begun on them! 

John's Voice. Don't worry over them, will you? I 
shall be home early and can help you out. We are to 
be at home this evening, aren't we? No engagement? 

Lucy. None but the postals ! 

John's Voice. You ought to have an assistant. 

Lucy. I shall count on you. 

John's Voice. You may. Well, good-bye, my dear. 
I hope you are enjoying a quiet day. 

Lucy. Thank you. Good-bye. [Lucy puts down 
the controlo phone, exclaiming.] A quiet day! 

Mrs. Bysom. [With animation.] Now I can repay 
your kindness to me ! I — I couldn't help hearing about 
the postals. May I, may I — stay and assist you with 
them? I am quick with my hands. [Eagerly.] Do 
allow me. 

Lucy. Why, thank you. I am only too pleased to 
accept your offer, if you feel well enough to help me. 

Mrs. Bysom. Yes, yes, I do. 

Lucy. [Arranging the desk.] Then we will sit here 
together. [They systematise the work. The kettle 
sings.] 

Mrs. Bysom. Mrs. Potts, I — absolutely — I — feel as if 
something were speaking to me, telling me things about 
myself. 

Lucy. Perhaps it is the kettle. 

Mrs. Bysom. The kettle? 

Lucy. Yes; listen. Does it say anything intelligible 
to you ? / am beginning to understand it. 
■ [The kettle sings softly.] 

(Curtain.) 



22- THE KETTLE SINGS 



ACT 1, SCENE II. 

Scene. Lucy and Mrs. Bysom discovered at desk as 
at close of Act I. Several hours have elapsed. 

Lucy. [Piling postals in orderly fashion and setting 
than aside for mailing.^ All these finished in spite of 
interruptions ! Mrs. Bysom, you are most kind to have 
helped me so much, but don't stay longer than you have 
time to spare. I can manage the rest of these, with Mr. 
Potts' help; this evening. 

Mrs. Bysom. [Smiles at Lucy and shakes her head.'] 
I really like to do them. Here all is restful to me, abso- 
lutely restful. 

[Telephone rings. Lucy and Mrs. Bysom laugh.'] 

Lucy. Restful — except for the telephone. 

[Telephone rings again.] 

Lucy. [Putting doivn her work.] Telephones neither 
slumber nor sleep ! They should be trained to afternoon 
naps. 

[Telephone rings violently.] 

Lucy. [Through contr otophone.] Home 123. 

Telephone Voice. Is Mrs. John Henry Potts at 
home? 

Lucy. This is Mrs. Potts. 

Telephone Voice. This is the Polytechnic Institute. 
The board of managers, for whom I am speaking, would 
like to see your name on our membership Hst. We should 
like your support. Er — do you and Mr. Potts under- 
stand about the Polytechnic? 

Lucy. Yes, I think we do. 

Telephone Voice. May we have the pleasure of 
adding your name to our list? 

Lucy. . No, I must consider the proposition. 

Telephone Voice. Then we may call again? When 
shall we call you? Tomorrow? 



THE KETTLE SINGS 23 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Lucy. [JVith a smiling glance at the kettle.] No, do 
not call. I will consider and inform you of the decision. 

Telephone Voice. Oh, very well. Good-bye. 

[Lucy sets to work again. Telephone rings.] 

Mrs. Bysom. [With an impatient gesture.] Abso- 
lutely ! 

Lucy. [Through controlophone.] Home 123. 

Telephone Voice. Mrs. Potts? 

Lucy. Yes. 

Telephone Voice. This is the Daily Inquisitor, Mrs. 
Potts. Your name has been given to us as one of the 
young matrons interested in reducing the high cut of 
women's skirts. Now we would like your opinion in 
this matter. 

Lucy. I haven't formed an opinion. 

Telephone Voice. Well, you would know whether 
you favored government regulation or local agitation. 

Lucy. I think local agitation would very likely follow 
government regulation. 

Telephone Voice. Ah, Oh! Thank you very much 
for your valued opinion, Mrs. Potts. Good day. 

[The kettle sings. There is a moment of quiet zvork. 
Telephone rings. Lucy sighs, Mrs. Bysom frowns. 
Both gesture impatiently.] 

Lucy. [Through controlophone.] This is Home 123 
—Mrs. Potts. 

Telephone Voice. Oh, yes, Mrs. Potts, this is the 
Dunetrotters' office. We find that a few influential names 
were omitted from the list we sent you this morning. 
Will you take them now by telephone? 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

[Door hell. Maid attends.] 

Lucy. Really, you must excuse me. I have already 
all that I can do to finish the ones first assigned. 

Telephone Voice. Oh, well, all right. Sorry. 

[During this telephone communication Miss School- 
craft, Mrs. Ade and Mrs. Meanwell have entered, 



24 THE KETTLE SINGS 

left cards with the maid, etc. Mrs. Meanwell now 
comes forward.'] 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Short, sturdy, mannishly dressed 
and a trifle deaf.] Lucy, have you learned to control the 
telephone, or does it control you ? 

Lucy. [Rising and hastening to greet her callers.] 
I am so glad to see you ! 

[Telephone rings. Lucy shrugs her shoulders and 
makes a despairing gesture.] 

Lucy. Is there a scientific management for tele- 
phones ? 

Mrs. Meanwell. May / answer ? [Lucy hands her 
the controlophone and busies herself in seating Miss 
Schoolcraft and Mrs. Ade.] 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Sternly, through controlophone.] 
This is Home 123. If you want Mrs. Potts and have 
an immediate message for her, tell it quickly. If not 
immediate, Mrs. Potts is to be reached by telephone 
between the hours of 8 and 9 a. m. and 5 and 6 p. m. 
You understand ? [No answer. Mrs. Meanwell waits 
a second, then puts down the controlophone and seats 
herself by Lucy, who waits in quiet amusement.] 

Lucy. [Indicating Mrs. Bysom.] Mrs. Meanwell, 
Mrs. Ade, Miss Schoolcraft — my guest, Mrs. Bysom. 
[All acknozvledge by bows, zvithout rising. Lucy seats 
herself in the group.] How nice of you busy people to 
come at once to welcome me ! Mother will be so pleased 
when she hears it. 

Mrs. Foster Ade. [Middle aged and kindly.] We 
are very curious, you know. 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Solemnly.] And anxious. 

Lucy. Curious and anxious about what? 

All Three Visiters. About you. 

Lucy. Curious and anxious and about me! You 
make me feel quite important! [The three women ex- 
change significant glances.] 

Miss Schoolcraft. [A spinster in spectacles, to Mrs. 
Meanwell.] You begin first, Martha, as we agreed. 



THE KETTLE SINGS 25 

Mrs. Mean well. [To Lucy.] You are important 
to us and to all womanhood. It is my earnest hope that 
I may convince you of that importance. 

Kettle. Hoot! [All start, and look around for the 
source of the sound.~\ 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Her hand behind her ear.] I beg 
your pardon? 

Lucy. No, no, Mrs. Meanwell, please excuse the in- 
terruption. 

Mrs. Meanwell. Well, as I was saying, we older 
women, your mother's friends, want you to realize the 
splendid possibilities that lie ahead of you. We have 
labored [She sighs.'] through years of unflagging effort, 
to reform and regenerate society and now we look to you 
to take up the burden of the day as we lay it down ; and 
so, my dear, we view with anxiety, I may say great 
anxiety, this marriage you have contracted. 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Half hearing.] Did you [Pause.'] 
say anything? 

Lucy. Do forgive the kettle! But, Mrs. Meanwell, 
what can you mean ? 

Mrs. Meanwell. I mean, dear child, nothing deroga- 
tory to your excellent husband, nothing condemnatory of 
marriage itself except that as an institution it may col- 
lide with the unfolding purpose of a great and useful 
life — your life. 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Mrs. Meanwell. I keep fancying I hear an unusual 
sound ! 

Lucy. [Nervottsly eyeing the kettle.] But may not 
the purpose of my life discover itself through marriage 
and motherhood? 

Mrs. Meanwell. It may, it may, but the chances are 
against it. Too many married women spend their lives 
in worshipping household gods. [Mrs. Meanwell sighs 
and then, abruptly, asks.] Lucy, do you intend to have 
children ? 



26 THE KETTLE SINGS 

Lucy. O, yes indeed [Miss Schoolcraft and Mrs. 
Ade appear shocked.'] I do, although of course I can't say 
just how many. 

Mrs. Meanwell. We perhaps should not ask that 
of you, dear child, nor that you forego the pleasantly 
sentimental experience of motherhood. \^Miisingly.'] It 
is still necessary for the race that women bear children — 
a limited number. 

Lucy. And the family then, is it not the very foun- 
dation of the social structure? And isn't the conserva- 
tion of the family a part of the business of being a 
woman ? 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Rises and takes middle of stage.] 
The family ! a fetich ! An ancient superstition long out- 
living its usefulness ! Gradually we are evolving a social 
state when men and women shall disavow that unit of 
segregation ! 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Mrs. Meanwell. Did you say — something, Lucy? 

Lucy. [Eagerly.] I do want to ask you : What be- 
comes of the children of the future? 

Mrs. Meanwell. The children of the future will 
be the children of the community ; the hand, not of a 
mother but of an expert must in the future rock the 
cradle — no, no, of course one does not rock cradles nowa- 
days — ^but you know what I mean ! 

Lucy. And family life? 
*- Mrs. Meanwell. Family life will be merged in com- 
munity life; children will be cared for and educated by 
the community. 

Lucy. [Interrupting.] And will no little child of the 
future ever know what it is to be homesick? Mother- 
sick? 

[The Kettle sings. The visitors appear to be grieved 
by Lucy's question.] 

Mrs. Meanwell. Lucy, your emotions cloud your 
intellect. 

Lucy. I cling to the idea of homemaking. 



THE KETTLE SINGS 27 

Mrs. Meanwell. Commonplace ! Any one can make 
a home. That was Eve's conception of hfe before she 
learned there were things more important than tending 
the garden of Eden. 

[The Kettle sings.] 

Lucy. That's just the point — Eve was not a mod- 
ern, scientific homemaker. If she had been, that garden 
would have run like clockwork and Eve would still have 
had time to help Adam name the creatures. She would 
have had Adam's fig leaf dinner coat ready for him in the 
cool of the evening before the expected guest arrived, 
and as for Adam — if he had sprayed his apple trees ! 
[Lucy laughs merrily.'] But seriously, couldn't home- 
making and fathering and mothering be reckoned in as 
real professions? Can't a woman balance home life and 
community life? Can't she? [Lucy stops, suddenly 
embarrassed.] I beg your pardon ! I am very inexperi- 
enced and idealistic ! I think the Kettle influences me. 

Mrs. Meanwell. You are still quite old-fashioned 
aren't you, my dear? And what has your kettle to do 
with it all? [Mrs. Bysom rises. She has been industri- 
ously pasting labels, tho* follozving the conversation 
keenly. She now hastily stacks the postals and moves 
tozvards Lucy with eagerness.] 

Mrs. Bysom. O, Mrs. Potts, I have intruded too long, 
absolutely too long! The postals are nearly done. I 
thank you, I thank you for a new idea ! I think I shall 
try keeping house — for Bysom. 

Lucy. Why! Mrs. Bysom! 

Mrs. Bysom. Yes, you see, I had only the economic 
independence idea and now I think I have a new light, 
absolutely a new light. I thank you. [Gathers her 
wraps.] 

Lucy. Please don't thank me, it was the kettle that 
helped you, I'm sure. I hope you will have one singing 
in your home ! You have been so kind to help me ! 
Goodbye. [Mrs. Bysom bozvs to all the ladies and again 
to Lucy. Doorbell — maid attends.] 



28 THE KETTLE SINGS 

Mrs. Bysom. Goodbye! Goodbye! [Exit.] 

[Enter, as Mrs. Bysom goes out, Mrs. Rafael-Keats 
and Mrs. Plato-Darwin, whom Lucy greets cordially.] 

Lucy. O, how do you do Mrs. Keats? And Mrs. 
Darwin ! To think of your making calls ! You know 
these friends? [hidicating Mrs. Meanwell, Miss 
Schoolcraft and Mrs. Ade^ who nod familiarly. All 
seat themselves.] 

Mrs. Ade. [Kindly hut firmly.] Lucy dear, we have 
little time for the frippery of social calls. What we are 
really come for today is to urge you to take hold of the 
vast issues of life in the great world and not to bury 
yourself in the petty routine of family life. I, for one, 
, sadly need your help in a piece of constructive work I 
am about to undertake. [She half closes her eyes, scru- 
tinizing Lucy.] I'm sure you could do it eminently well, 
if you would. 
Lucy. I should like to do what I can. 
Mrs. Ade. [Rises and comes forzvard.] I am putting 
a tooth-brush bill through the legislature. May I read 
it to you? [All assent. Mrs. Ade deliberately takes 
from her hand bag a large, folded paper, which she im- 
pressively opens and, clearing her throat, reads. \ 
'Whereas'* — this is the preamble — "Whereas, it is the 
inalienable right of every man, woman and child in the 
state to possess a tooth-brush of his own ; and, 

"Whereas, it has been clearly demonstrated that every 
tooth-brush should be constructed to fit the mouth of the 
individual using it; and, 

"Whereas, it is questionable if all individuals, unaided 
by the state, could find, secure and understand the use 
of the tooth-brush best fitted and suited to their own par- 
ticular needs ; and, 

"Whereas, the health of the body politic is known to 
be seriously menaced by diseases arising from maladjust- 
ment of tooth-brushes to the mouths" — [Mrs. Ade turns 
the page and takes breath.] 



THE KETTLE SINGS 29 

Miss Schoolcraft. [Interrupting, puts Mrs. Ade 
aside.] Beautiful, beautiful idealism, Mrs. Ade, but 
really less important, it seems to me, for Lucy than are 
the practical matters of school reforms. School Board 
Reforms! The very mention of them brings a thrill. 
There is a field of battle worthy the stoutest warrior! 
There, in historic frays, the pick and flower of civic 
Galahads have gone down to defeat — to defeat, but never 
to despair. [She turns to Lucy passionately.] Lucy, 
I implore you, give your strength, your time, your splen- 
did usefulness to us. We need you now. This is our 
present problem: Our School Board, as you know, is 
quite made up of women, able, disinterested women ; but 
we do want a man among us, we really want a man! 
Where shall we find a man who wants a School Board 
job for life? Come and help us find him, Lucy ! If once 
we interest you in public school affairs, you will never 
again stagnate in mere domesticity ! [Scornfully.] Do- 
mestic stagnation ! 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Miss Schoolcraft. [Tartly.] Lucy, how can you 
allow that rude kettle to interrupt? 

Lucy. Do excuse it ! [Lucy hesitates.] But, do you 
know, I find in my kettle an inspiration? 

Mrs. Plato-Darwin. [Imposing, learned, comes for- 
ward displacing Miss Schoolcraft.] Your kettle an 
inspiration! Reductio ad ahsurdum! What can an in- 
significant teakettle have to do with the weightier mat- 
ters of your corporeal ontology? [Turns to the other 
visitors.] Candor compels the admission that, in my 
opinion, Lucy is not yet in the full exercitation of her 
powers of cognition. Reality ! Actuality ! The Elan 
vital! The Apprehension of Synchronous co-existence 
with other manifestations of Abstract Being! These are 
matters of pure intellection as yet beyond Lucy's cogni- 
tio intuitiva or her categories of understanding. [Turn- 
ing to Lucy.] Lucy dear, Kant says — [She sees Lucy 
about to speak.] but my desir/' Videmus nunc per specu- 



30 THE KETTLE SINGS 

him in aenigmate ;" you shall see face to face, you shall 
receive spiritual illumination, if you enroll yourself in 
our Bergsonian Band, [She speaks with rapt ejithtisi- 
asm.] our little Band of Serious Seekers after Truth. 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. [Splendid, distinguished, liter- 
ary, carries a lorgnette — comes forward, and Mrs. 
Plato-Darwin retires.'] Tut, tut! All very learned 
[Indicating Mrs. Plato-Darwin.] and very amiable, 
[Indicating the other visitors.] but / say to you, Lucy, 
be an individualist. Why merge yourself in others' re- 
forms, philanthropies, education or philosophy? Why 
not emerge? 

Lucy. But how? What would you have me do? 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Talent is latent ; discover yours ! 
If nothing else [Mrs. Keats bends impressively towards 
Lucy.] — become a zvriter! 

Lucy. An author! But I have never tried to write. 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Why not? Every one does. 

Lucy. But I may not have the gift. 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. It may develop; [Enthusing.] 
we will develop it! Join our Class in Literature! Come 
this very evening to the public reading of our monthly 
output! There you shall awaken to your own possibili- 
ties. 

Lucy. O, I thank you, but John and I have an en- 
gagement to stay at home ; I have [Lucy looks ruefully 
at her desk.] — I have to address some announcement 
cards. You see I am already secretary of one organiza- 
tion. 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Lucy! Why dribble out your 
time in addressing post cards, or in cosying your hus- 
band by the fire ? Why not begin at once to develop your 
own life work? [Lucy appears much interested and 
Mrs. Rafael-Keats is encouraged.] What would it not 
mean to you, month by month, to see your name in the 
literary reviews: "Mrs. Lucy Potts, the dainty lyrist, 
has in this month's issue of the Pacific" — 

Kettle. Hoot ! 



THE KETTLE SINGS 31 

Lucy. Why, Mrs. Keats, I never wrote a line of 
poetry in my life! I do not know one rule of versifica- 
tion! 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Rules! Quite obsolete, quite 
senseless! Modern poetry knows no rules! [Abruptly.'] 
Lucy, have you a color sense? 

Lucy. I can tell red from green. 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. [Delightedly.'] Oh, charming! 
A color sense is more necessary to poets than is a sense 
of right and wrong ! 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Lucy. Can it be that you are serious ? 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Entirely serious, it is the truth. 
Color sense is the aeroplane with which one mounts to 
the dizziest height of modern art. Color is Pegasus, — 
Pegasus is Color! 

Lucy. This is too strange ! 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Aside.] Stuff and nonsense ! 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Lucy dear, you know that red 
is a force-producing power — the very flame of inspira- 
tion ! You know that violet is enervating that green is 
subtle, temperamental. Now, if, under the spectrum's 
mystic tutelage, your emotions express themselves in cool 
greys, in black and white design, in gleams of gold, in 
sociological drabs and browns, then, then you have ar- 
rived, you are achieving modern poetry ! 

Kettle. Hoot ! 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. What an ill-mannered kettle! 

Lucy. I fear my kettle has no color sense. 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Really my dear, you have no 
idea how easy is authorship ! Any one writes a play 
nowadays and gets it on the boards ! And literature is so 
remunerative ! 

Lucy. Is it? 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Yes, you could have economic 
freedom in the literary life. Many of us began our suc- 
cessful careers by writing the Bright Sayings of Children 



32 THE KETTLE SINGS 

for the Daily Forum ! A dollar each, you know ! You 
have read them, those Bright Sayings? 

Lucy. [With an inclusive gesture.'] Dear friends, 
how kind you are, and interested in my future ! 

[The Kettle sings softly.] 

Lucy. I feel within me a stirring towards you all-r- 
towards your Reform, dear Mrs. Meanwell ; towards 
your Philanthropy, dear Mrs. Ade ; toward Education 
and Philosophy — how much I need them both! — [To 
Miss Schoolcraft and Mrs. Darwin.] and towards 
your literary life, dear Mrs. Keats. I should like to do 
everything you ask of me. 

Kettle. [Very loud.] Hoot, toot-toot-toot! 

[All the women cover their ears.] 

Mrs. Meanwell. There! What is that wretched 
sound? I have heard [Pause.] many strange sounds in 
this room. 

Lucy. It is my kettle, anxious for fear of my for- 
getting my own ideal. 

Miss Schoolcraft. You have an ideal then? 

Lucy. I have; I have already tried to express it; it 
is as elusive as a humming bird. 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. But you must know what it is. 

[The Kettle sings softly.] 

Lucy. It is — what every woman wants. 

Miss Schoolcraft. Why make a mystery of it? 

Lucy. [Timidly.] It is — I want to keep a little time 
every day for myself — for my home ! 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Groans.] I feared we had come 
too late! Too late! [To Lucy.] What a trite ideal? 

Lucy. [Very earnestly.] No, not trite! Do let me 
explain. [The visitors, except Mrs. Ade, are preparing 
to leave.] 

Mrs. Ade. [Kindly.] Go on, Lucy, explain. Perhaps 
you have something less commonplace to say to us. [The 
other visitors also listen indulgently.] 

Lucy. [Slozvly, as if trying to formulate her ideas.] 
You know my grandmother was a famous housekeeper. 



THE KETTLE SINGS 33 

She cooked and sewed and brewed and spun and reared 
twelve children and wore herself to early caps and knit- 
ting, a premature old age, by too much labor done within 
her home, and not enough of contact with the world. 

Mrs. Meanwell. Exactly! 

Lucy. [Pauses.'] You are interested? [All assent.] 

Mrs. Darwin. Proceed. 

Lucy. My mother's life is equally as toilsome. In 
clubs and in committees, on Boards of many excellent 
institutions, she tries, with watchfulness and wise pro- 
vision, to guard the helpless and uphold the weak. She 
is so busied that she has no time at home, and I know 
she sometimes envies grandmother her less complex, if 
more laborious, life. 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. Well, well, what next? 

Lucy. You know my Aunt has made a brilliant rec- 
ord. She is a spinster, but her mind is married to the 
law. She has, in a marked degree, succeeded in her pro- 
fession, but yet she claims her life is incomplete because 
she has no home life and no children. 

Mrs. Darwin. [Patronimngly.] Incontestably these 
are all varied feminine types. 

Lucy. One more type: Cousin Mary Jones. She 
is— just wealthy. It doesn't seem to me she lives her 
life ; she tats — on hotel porches — and travels when she 
wants to change her mind! And yet Cousin Mary has 
her body in wonderful condition ; she sleeps and eats as 
normal beings should. [Lucy brightens.] I mean to be 
these women all in one, or parts of each. I mean to 
make a home and find my balance between myself, my 
home and outside demands. The kettle tells me that it 
can be done. [Lucy waits; the other women look at her 
4n amazement ; Lucy says gently.] That, then, is my 
ideal — mine and my Kettle's. - 

Mrs. Meanwell. Your Kettle's ! [She makes her 
way to the controlo phone.] 

Mrs. Darwin. Here is indubitably psychic perver- 
sion. 



34 THE KETTLE SINGS 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. That a woman of our day should 
trust her Kettle! What a subject for a comedy! 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Through controlo phone.] Loop 
5000. 

Telephone Voice. 5000 Loop. 

Another Telephone Voice. This is Loop 5000. 

Mrs. Meanwell. The Psychopathic Institute? 

Telephone Voice. Yes; what is wanted? 

Mrs. Meanwell. Send an expert at once to 1630 
Cherryblossom, ist Apartment. [Lucy starts to pro- 
test.~\ 

Lucy. Mrs. Meanwell! 

Mrs. Meanwell. [Telephoning.'] I say the ist 
Apartment. There is a case here of unusual interest. 

Lucy. But Mrs. Meanwell ! 

[Mrs. Meanwell holds Lucy off with her left hand 
till Mrs. Keats and Miss Schoolcraft gently pull Lucy 
away.] 

Telephone Voice. Who is reporting the case? 

Mrs. Meanwell. Mrs. Martha Meanwell. 

Telephone Voice. There at once. 

[Door hell — maid attends.] 

Lucy. [Struggling.] But what are you doing? 

Mrs. Meanwell. My poor, dear Lucy! As your 
mother's oldest friend I feel myself in duty bound to do 
this. Were she but here! [Enter Mrs. Black unob- 
served by the others.] O, that all your brilliant early 
promise should end in this peculiar kind of madness ! 
[Mrs. Meanwell clasps her hands, agonised. She 
turns to Miss Schoolcraft.] We must not leave her, 
Felicia, till relief comes. 

Mrs. Black. [Coming forward qttietly.] May I 
relieve you, Martha? 

Mrs. Meanwell and the others: — Mary Black! 

Lucy. [Joyously springing towards her mother.] 
Mother ! 

Mrs. Meanwell. Mary, this is a sad, sad sight for 
you. I would have spared you. I love dear Lucy almost 



THE KETTLE SINGS 35 

as my own. She is the victim of hallucination — she fan- 
cies she is possessed by her own kettle. You understand 
the possible meaning of this? 

Mrs. Black. [Calmly.'] I think I do. 

Mrs. Meanwell. You have always shown yourself 
brave in every emergency, Mary ; be brave now. I have 
called a psychopath — he will soon be here. Shall we stay 
with you or would you prefer to be alone with Lucy ? 

Mrs. Black. I am not afraid to be alone — with Lucy. 

Lucy. Mother ! 

Mrs. Rafael-Keats. I really should be going. 

Mrs. Darwin and Mrs. Ade. [Looking at their wrist 
watches and comparing notes.~\ We have engagements. 

Miss Schoolcraft. The School Board meets this 
afternoon. I must be there. 

Mrs. Meanwell. I will go, then, Mary. But — ^you 
will find me at headquarters if you need me. 

[Exeunt the 5 visitors.] 

Lucy. Mother, you understand me? 

Mrs. Black. I understand you dear, perfectly. 

John. [Enters hurried and anxious.] Lucy, what 
is wrong? Mother, what is it? A motor ambulance is 
at the door and some one from the Psychopathic Institute 
insists there is in our apartment an urgent case requiring 
his attention. I staved him off to come myself and find 
out what it meant. 

Lucy. [Mischievously.] It is the Kettle, dear. 

John. Do be serious, Lucy! You tell me. Mother! 

Mrs. Black. Whatever it is, John, I will be respon- 
sible. You can send the doctors away on my authority. 

John. Things are a trifle mixed here, but I cheerfully 
send away the invaders. [Exit.] 

[The Kettle sings. Lucy, prettily putting her mother 
into an easy chair, kneels beside her.] 

Lucy. O mother, you did come just in time! 



36 THE KETTLE SINGS 

Mrs. Black. I tried to telephone you, earlier, that 
I was coming, but I was told [She laughs.] your telephone 
hours were 8 to 9, and 5 to 6! 

Lucy. [Horrified.] And that was yoii, Mother dear, 
whom Mrs. Meanwell regulated ! 

Mrs. Black. I thought her idea a splendid one. 

[Re-enter John.] 

Lucy. [To John.] Come here, dear, let Mother tell 
you what it was all about and I will make arrangements 
for our dinner. [John seats himself beside Mrs. Black 
zvhile Lucy inanipidates buttons and starts the maid who 
proceeds to lay the cloth for three.] 

John. [To Mrs. Black.] What was the trouble, 
Mother ? 

Mrs. Black. From what I saw and heard, and more 
that I infer, it seems that Martha Meanwell and other 
progressive women insisted that Lucy acquiesce in their 
plans for her. Lucy set forth her own ideas and fell 
back upon the kettle for support. The women judged 
her obviously mad. 

John. And they sent for the psychopaths? 

Lucy. [Coming forivard.] And mother came in just 
the nick of time ! [Lucy caresses her mother* s hand and 
turns to John.] 

Lucy. John dear, I don't like to bother you, but — 

John. Those were the very words you used this 
morning that got me in for managing the maid. What 
is it this time ? 

Lucy. Those postals ! 

John. Sure enough, I had forgotten. Well, let's get 
at them. [To Mrs. Black.] Will Mother excuse us? 
Lucy has had seven hundred postals to turn out today. 
[Lucy arranges John at the desk.'] 

Mrs. Black. [Resting back in her chair.] I shall 
be glad to sit here quietly and watch you two. 

[Telephone rings.] 

John. [Through controlophone.] Home 123. 

Telephone Voice. Mrs. Potts there? 



THE KETTLE SINGS 37 

John. Yes; may I take the message? 

Telephone Voice. This is the Dunetrotters' office. 
We learn through Government sources that the weather 
next week is prognosticated unfavorably and have there- 
fore decided not to hold the large meeting for which 
Mrs. Potts was sending out notices. Have the postals 
been mailed ? 

John. [Explosively.] No! 

Telephone VoiCe. Very well then, please destroy 
them. Sorry if we have troubled Mrs. Potts unneces- 
sarily. Goodbye. 

John. [Angrily putting dozvn the controlo phone.'] 
Well of all — impositions ! This is the climax. Lucy, I 
hope you will at once resign as Secretary of that organ- 
ization ! 

Lucy. John, liever mind. I don't mind. I have had 
a great experience day. 

John. A great experience day! 

Lucy. Yes, the kind of interrupted, over-busy, hig- 
gledy-piggledy day most modern women live from Mon- 
day morning until Saturday night, week in, week out. 
[Lucy tnrns to Mrs. Black.] Mother dear, the kettle 
is helping me as you said it would. 

Mrs. Black. It speaks clearly to you? 

Lucy. Yes, I think I understand both what it says 
to me and to every woman. [Appealing to Mrs. Black 
and John.] You both hear, don't you, what the kettle 
sings ? I think it says : 

[Lucy intones the following lines while the kettle 
sings softly :] 

"Oh, Modern Woman, restless, uneasy, struggling to 
adjust yourself to great changes that are in process of 
re-making human society ; 

"Oh, Woman, conserver of life, I, your Kettle, say to 
you: 'No matter how well you may succeed in profes- 
sions, in industry, in politics — and you shall succeed — 
always and forever you shall in your heart of heart de- 



38 THE KETTLE SINGS 

sire, and struggle to maintain your home; and always 
and forever I, your Kettle, will give you good advice.' " 

[Lucy stops abruptly; so does the Kettle. Lucy 
looks apologetically at Mrs. Black and John.] Now 
you will think me quite gone off my head ! 

Mrs. Black. No, dear, I am glad your kettle speaks 
as it does to you. Many women fail to understand it. 

Lucy. It is your good gift to me, mother. 

John. I like the homey sound of the kettle myself. 

Mrs. Black. Men need its message too. 

John. [To Lucy.] And so you would say to all 
distracted women— [John waits for Lucy's anszver; 
Lucy joins John afid Mrs. Black in a group that reveals 
the Kettle in the background, singing softly.] 

Lucy. I'd say to every woman that I know : 

"Be sure your kettle sin^s." 

«fC ^ ^ «{C ^ >|v 

Curtain. 



PLAYS 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

pn 

015 793 023 



And Entertainment Books. 

^JIJEING the largest theatrical booksellers in 
T^ the United States, we keep in stock the most 
complete and best assorted lines of plays and en- 
tertainment books to be found anywhere. 

We can supply any play or book pub- 
lished. We have issued a catalogue of the best 
plays and entertainment books published in 
America and England. It contains a full 
description of each play, giving number of char- 
acters, time of playing, scenery, costumes, etc. 
This catalogue will be sent free on application. 

The plays described are suitable for ama- 
teurs and professionals, and nearly all of them 
may be played free of royalty. Persons inter- 
ested in dramatic books should examine our cat- 
alogue before ordering elsewhere. 

We also carry a full line of grease paints, 
face powders, hair goods, and other ''make-up" 
materials. 

The Dramatic Publishing Company 
CHICAGO 



